Frank McCoy wrote:
> "The time has come, the walrus said ...."
>
> Frank looks around the empty office, drains the cup of coffee he was
> drinking, and walks over to the sink; carefully washing up the
> now-empty pot, saucer, cup, and spoon, before placing them up in the
> cupboard where they belong.
>
> He looks around the empty room at the now spotless desk, where once so
> many stacks of papers and duties filled the in-basket. Now, there's
> only one last duty to fulfill; and it's finally come to the point he
> has to admit he'll have to do it. <Sigh.>
>
> Closing and locking the almost empty file cabinet, he looks around for
> any last thing out of place in either the private consultation room,
> with it's small but comfortable chairs and tiny cot, the assistant's
> private room, where only *she* knew what went on, but is also now bare
> and spotless, to the main office, where so many seemingly urgent
> conversations took place in days gone past. Nothing is out of place.
>
> Gathering his bugle, which he's been practicing vainly for days, just
> to get this one final duty right, he heads out the door to the main
> Administration Building. The parking-lot is empty; even the
> speed-bumps having mysteriously disappeared in the last few months.
> Snaggles of weeds and crabgrass are already fighting for root-space in
> the cracks of the asphalt and cement.
>
> The flag still flaps bravely though; and Frank, for one last time,
> stands and salutes it. Then, carefully unwinding the halyard, he
> slowly lowers the flag to half-staff; then stands and puts the bugle
> to his lips. The lonely sound of an inexpertly-played rendition of
> "Taps" fills the air for over half a minute; a couple of cracked notes
> being ignored by all except the wind; which momentarily whips the flag
> into a fury of flapping, then stills.
>
> Placing the bugle on the ground, Frank slowly lowers the flag the rest
> of the way, and reverently folds the flag ... Twice lengthwise, then
> corner-over-corner in a tight triangular fold, with the blue field
> ending up neatly on the outside.
>
> Picking up the bugle, he heads into the now empty edifice, where so
> much business used to be conducted. He looks up at the birdstained
> white granite with the proud words "Pedo University Administration"
> that now seem empty and vain; then heads inside to finish his final
> duties. The door, while not locked, for a moment resists his attempt
> to enter, then finally opens with a grudging squeal
>
> Inside, the once busy and bustling hallway, he looks down at the
> stick-mosaic on the floor, once the pride of the University and
> intended to last forever against the buy day-to-day wear of hurrying
> staff and pattering bare feet, where the image of a small female
> student sits forever in naked beauty on the lap of a University
> Professor, her eyes wide with wonder as the man points down the hall;
> obviously teaching the child about the beauties of the Universe.
> Groucho had complained bitterly about the expense; but too many
> donations had been received to keep the artwork from being installed.
>
> Frank slowly walks past the rows and rows of glass cases where
> trophies still sit in silent glory; proclaiming the prowess of past
> generations of students. The volleyball team, the gymnastics' team,
> the swim team ... each with pictures showing the student-bodies in
> question at the peak of their performances and beauty. Again, he
> sighs for past glories.
>
> Finally Frank stops at the main administration area, walking past the
> now-empty guards' desk, assistant's room, and on into the private
> sanctorum where once Grouch presided, and then was taken over fairly
> competently in the last few years while the University slowly
> declined, by wildman. The place is a mess; looking as if it had been
> ransacked twice by people looking for something ... Missing paychecks
> perhaps? The safe sits wide-open, with only a receipt for tampons
> from Kame-Apart inside. Tampons? Perhaps .... No.
>
> Grabbing a loose paper-towel floating across the floor, Frank removes
> the offending receipt, wipes out the inside of the safe, and places
> both flag and bugle reverently inside. He then closes the safe door,
> and pulls the handle shut ... but does not spin the dial to lock the
> safe.
>
> For a moment he stands looking around the office, almost automatically
> picking up a few stray items of trash and dropping them into the
> waste-container, before shaking himself and stopping the pointless
> activity.
>
> Heading back out, he then turns left instead of right, towards inner
> offices instead of out the door, and down a big staircase to the
> right, at the end of the hall. Two stories down, he opens a steel
> door with crosshatched wire in the glass, and peers into the
> boiler-room. A quiet but insistent hum fills the air with busy-ness.
> Knowing that both swimming-pools have long been drained, there are
> only a few last things to do:
>
> First, the water. It takes three tries to heave the enormous black
> wheel into moving at all; and much straining for the five turns before
> the water is turned off, but it's eventually accomplished. The Red
> Wheel manning the fire-extinguishers separate line, he leaves alone.
> Besides, it's locked-open by order of the Fire Department.
>
> The gas-line is similarly shut off, with much less hassle.
>
> Finally Frank faces the final task: One he's promised to do; but never
> expected: An enormous red-handled switch in the box on the wall has a
> clip in it that he first removes, then heaves the lever down with a
> loud, "Clang!" The room goes dark; flickers with light for a second,
> then goes dark again. The hum has stopped; and Frank can hear a faint
> whine slowly descending in pitch before complete silence creeps in.
> The only light in the basement now comes from the Emergency Lighting
> System, with a faint glow saying, "EXIT" at the door where he entered.
>
> Frank slips the pin back into the switch, now holding it locked open,
> and heads for the fading light at the door; reaching it barely before
> the Emergency Light flickers and then dies. Wildman always was a
> little cheap about testing and replacing batteries. Oh well ... It
> had served it's purpose, when needed.
>
> A faint light seeps in from windows in the next floor up, as he climbs
> wearily back up the stairs; his breath whistling as he finally makes
> it to the top, past the now-empty offices of the PU Picayune, where in
> glorious days past CR had held sway and out into the bright sun, where
> for a moment he stood blinking, almost unable to see. He takes one
> last, sad look around, to the left, past the now-open gates of the PU
> zoo, where the animals had all been released months earlier, to the
> Rec. Hall, Children's dorms, Classrooms, and other buildings that make
> up a major campus. All quiet now, except for the wind whistling
> between the buildings. Even the Fire-Department and Police Station
> are now closed; the Cafeteria being closed several years earlier by
> the Health Department; leaving Students and Faculty to subsist on
> Pizza, beer, pop, milk, and such items as the PUb carried ... Not
> exactly a small selection, at that.
>
> In the other direction, the pile of beer cans and other refuse marks
> the spot where Krazy held the last party; only missing burning down
> the edifice because everybody in the celebration was too drunk to
> remember the aim.
>
> Frank's steps now echo hollowly as he makes his way back across the
> empty parking-lot; empty that is, except for the ugly red Yugo that
> was all he could afford on his nonexistent salary.
>
> Looking inside the office for the last time, he flips the now-dead
> switch down; keeping his promise for the last person to leave to turn
> out the lights, but doesn't close the door. He looks sadly up at the
> small sign proclaiming, "Family Counseling Office"; and resists once
> again the temptation to straighten it or lock the place up. Let the
> squirrels have the office. Perhaps some stray hobo might find refuge
> there. Then Frank makes his way somewhat unsteadily to the waiting
> Yugo, and climbs inside. If you didn't know the Counselor didn't
> drink, you would assume he was completely sloshed ... and that SURELY
> couldn't be tears streaming down the old man's face, blinding him?
>
> It takes a minute or two before anything happens with the car; Frank
> reaching in the back to grab a tissue so he can see, before starting
> the old wreck up. Finally groans and a sputtering noise rise from the
> engine compartment before dying quickly. This is repeated twice more,
> before the cranky engine sputters to life in a blue cloud of smoke
> that quickly dissipates.
>
> A grinding whine, and then the battered old car makes it's way towards
> the gates and the distant campus-exit down the drive separating the
> University from Real Life. A faint rumble; and the car is gone; now
> leaving only a dust-devil to imitate life, as the wind, rain, and
> weather take over the campus for the final time. From somewhere a
> bird chirps; and then even that is silent.
>
> R.I.P. Pedo University.
> No LEA, no Bible-Thumper, no anti-sex crusader was ever able to bring
> you down, though many threatened to do so. Not a DA's wild crusade,
> arrests, rabid wild Mexican Dogs, or service-providers dropping the
> group could even slow you down in your crusade as a last-bastion of
> free-speech on the Internet. No, only your own people finally losing
> interest could bring you this low. <Sigh.>
>
> A toast, to those who once cared about this Institution, and the
> conversations that made this group such a bright and wonderfully weird
> place to hang out!
>
> Frank tosses the now-empty glass of apple-juice into the back seat;
> still scrupulously anti-litter, as he motors off down the freeway.
>
> "Thanks for the mammaries."
>
Thanks, I missed it too, I never contributed to the PU conversations,
but I did lurk there for a while, and now that it's gone, I miss it and
might even comment occasionally were it still there.
--
I pledge allegiance to the Constitution of the United States of America,
and to the republic which it established, one nation, from many peoples,
promising liberty and justice for all.
Feel free to use the above variant pledge in your own postings.
Tim Merrigan
Yahoo Messenger: Tim_Merrigan_54
AIM: tppm1
_______________________________________________________________________________
Posted Via Uncensored-News.Com - Accounts Starting At $6.95 - http://www.uncensored-news.com
<><><><><><><> The Worlds Uncensored News Source <><><><><><><><>
|
|